Monster
One
James was afraid of the dark. When it was dark the monsters came out. They were always there; hiding under James's bed; in his closet; lurking in the darkest parts of his bedroom. They blended in well with the darkness. He never saw, but he heard them; felt them every night. They enjoyed taunting him; clawing at the walls and hardwood flooring. They relished in the sight of James's fear; his sobs. They took delight at the sounds James made when he was afriad when they let out a growl that resounded in the room and sent shivers racing through his body. The monsters loved to growl, snarl, hiss, whimper. The whimpering was more chilling to James because it was high pitched and sounded like an injured animal. James always kept his hands and feet away from the edge. He didn't want the monsters to get him. He never slept on his side. He felt too exposed; too vulnerable.
James loved the light. It kept the monters away; kept them in the darkest parts of his bedroom. It gave him a sense of security, so when the time came and his mother told him he was too old to continue sleeping with the light on, James was desperate to reserve the only thing keeping him safe. He protested. Mother didn't understand. He needed the light. Without it the monsters were free to harm him. Mother couldn't be persuaded. She thought he was being silly. Monsters weren't real, after all.
When James started to become hysterical to the point of tears, Mother told him that if the monsters came out to play, repeat the words: monsters aren't real. If he concentrated solely on the words and truly believed in them, the monsters would disappear forever.
It was the first night without the light on. James lay in bed paralyzed with fear. It was standing over him, growling. He felt its hot breath fan over his face, the horrid scent of decay invading his nostrils causing his stomach to turn.
"Monsters aren't real," whispered James, squeezing his eyes tight, his fingers tightening on his blanket. "Monsters aren't real." The monster laughed. It was malevolent and cackling and sent fear racing to his heart. "Monsters aren't real."
The monster let out a deep growl in James's ear. He sat bolt upright. His heart feeling as if it was leaping out of his chest. On the desk chair opposite his bed, James could see the dark outline of a small, plump creature with horns protruding from its head.
"Mommy!" James screamed, "Mommy!"
The monster slinked back under the bed when Mother flicked on the light. She looked as if she'd just woken up. James could see the small bump of her belly that her thin white nightgown couldn't conceal. His unborn sibling was safe from the monsters as long as it was with Mother. A soft, reassuring smile formed on Mother's face when she saw James sat up in bed, blanket up to his chin, his face streaked with tears, his small body trembling.
"What's wrong?" Her voice was soft, soothing - added with the light, it made James feel secure. But made the monster cackle from under the bed. The sparse hairs on the back of James's neck stood on end. Mother seemed oblivious.
"There's a monster!" said James, his voice quivering.
"A monster? Where?"
James pointed a shaky finger across the room. Mother walked over to where he pointed and picked up the stuffed bear that sat on the desk chair.
"It's just the bear Nana gave you for your birthday, James," said Mother, trying to hide the amusement in her voice.
"But it had horns... "
Mother laid the bear beside James. The mattress dipped under her weight as she sat on the edge of the bed. James didn't like this. The monster could get her.
"And there was another one standing beside the bed," James said hastily, "it was big and smelly."
"There are no monsters," Mother said calmly, as she ran her long, thin fingers through James's hair.
He had always found this oddly comforting. "Do you remember what I told you to say when the monsters came and you were scared?"
James nodded. "Monsters aren't real."
"That's right. Monsters aren't real. I want you to repeat those words until you fall asleep. Good night, baby." Mother kissed James's forehead and got up from the bed.
But Mother was wrong. Monsters were real. They were there. James had felt one of them. Overwhelming fear coursed through James as Mother crossed the room toward the door.
"C - could you ch - check?"
Mother sighed. James could see the exhaust in her eyes and he felt guilty for asking. "I checked when I tucked you in the first time. There are no monsters."
But the pleading, scared look on James's face made her agree just to put his mind at ease. Mother knelt down awkwardly, lifted the blacket, and peered under the bed as far as her belly would allow.
"No monsters under the bed," she confirmed. She didn't notice the narrowed glowing red eyes staring at her. She crossed the room and looked in the closet. "No monsters in the closet, either," she said, "now go to sleep. Nana's bear will keep you safe." She pressed another kiss to James's forehead. The red eyes never broke contact with her as she left.
The fear was still in the pit of James's stomach as he settled back into his pillow, holding the stuffed bear close to his chest. Repeating the words: monsters aren't real as he drifted off to sleep. A rotten, withered hand pulled the blanket off James. He stirred but didn't wake. The gnarled fingers curled around his ankle, yanked him off the bed, and dragged him under.
Monsters were real.
James loved the light. It kept the monters away; kept them in the darkest parts of his bedroom. It gave him a sense of security, so when the time came and his mother told him he was too old to continue sleeping with the light on, James was desperate to reserve the only thing keeping him safe. He protested. Mother didn't understand. He needed the light. Without it the monsters were free to harm him. Mother couldn't be persuaded. She thought he was being silly. Monsters weren't real, after all.
When James started to become hysterical to the point of tears, Mother told him that if the monsters came out to play, repeat the words: monsters aren't real. If he concentrated solely on the words and truly believed in them, the monsters would disappear forever.
It was the first night without the light on. James lay in bed paralyzed with fear. It was standing over him, growling. He felt its hot breath fan over his face, the horrid scent of decay invading his nostrils causing his stomach to turn.
"Monsters aren't real," whispered James, squeezing his eyes tight, his fingers tightening on his blanket. "Monsters aren't real." The monster laughed. It was malevolent and cackling and sent fear racing to his heart. "Monsters aren't real."
The monster let out a deep growl in James's ear. He sat bolt upright. His heart feeling as if it was leaping out of his chest. On the desk chair opposite his bed, James could see the dark outline of a small, plump creature with horns protruding from its head.
"Mommy!" James screamed, "Mommy!"
The monster slinked back under the bed when Mother flicked on the light. She looked as if she'd just woken up. James could see the small bump of her belly that her thin white nightgown couldn't conceal. His unborn sibling was safe from the monsters as long as it was with Mother. A soft, reassuring smile formed on Mother's face when she saw James sat up in bed, blanket up to his chin, his face streaked with tears, his small body trembling.
"What's wrong?" Her voice was soft, soothing - added with the light, it made James feel secure. But made the monster cackle from under the bed. The sparse hairs on the back of James's neck stood on end. Mother seemed oblivious.
"There's a monster!" said James, his voice quivering.
"A monster? Where?"
James pointed a shaky finger across the room. Mother walked over to where he pointed and picked up the stuffed bear that sat on the desk chair.
"It's just the bear Nana gave you for your birthday, James," said Mother, trying to hide the amusement in her voice.
"But it had horns... "
Mother laid the bear beside James. The mattress dipped under her weight as she sat on the edge of the bed. James didn't like this. The monster could get her.
"And there was another one standing beside the bed," James said hastily, "it was big and smelly."
"There are no monsters," Mother said calmly, as she ran her long, thin fingers through James's hair.
He had always found this oddly comforting. "Do you remember what I told you to say when the monsters came and you were scared?"
James nodded. "Monsters aren't real."
"That's right. Monsters aren't real. I want you to repeat those words until you fall asleep. Good night, baby." Mother kissed James's forehead and got up from the bed.
But Mother was wrong. Monsters were real. They were there. James had felt one of them. Overwhelming fear coursed through James as Mother crossed the room toward the door.
"C - could you ch - check?"
Mother sighed. James could see the exhaust in her eyes and he felt guilty for asking. "I checked when I tucked you in the first time. There are no monsters."
But the pleading, scared look on James's face made her agree just to put his mind at ease. Mother knelt down awkwardly, lifted the blacket, and peered under the bed as far as her belly would allow.
"No monsters under the bed," she confirmed. She didn't notice the narrowed glowing red eyes staring at her. She crossed the room and looked in the closet. "No monsters in the closet, either," she said, "now go to sleep. Nana's bear will keep you safe." She pressed another kiss to James's forehead. The red eyes never broke contact with her as she left.
The fear was still in the pit of James's stomach as he settled back into his pillow, holding the stuffed bear close to his chest. Repeating the words: monsters aren't real as he drifted off to sleep. A rotten, withered hand pulled the blanket off James. He stirred but didn't wake. The gnarled fingers curled around his ankle, yanked him off the bed, and dragged him under.
Monsters were real.